Always Starting Over
by Lise Blodeuwedd
Summary: When Ian dies, Mickey discovers he can go back in time and save him. But what will be the cost? Butterfly Effect AU
1. Chapter 1

As far back as he can remember, Mickey has always had blackouts. He'll be doing something, and next thing he knows, he is doing something else entirely. It's not that he passes out, oh no; he'll still keep on moving and talking and walking and no one will suspect a thing, except for when he'll seem to jolt awake, asking what has happened.

He was about six the first time it happened to him. His father started beating his mother senseless for whatever reason he couldn't remember, and Terry thought Mickey was being a brat and trying to draw attention to himself. He called him a pussy and said he'd teach him to be a man, then proceeded to spank him. The second time it happened, he was at school playing football with his classmates. When he came to his senses, he was punching one of his classmates so hard it was a miracle the boy didn't faint. He was sent to the principal, who thought his blacking out was just an excuse to get out of trouble. From then on, Mickey never mentioned his blackouts again. They didn't even happen much until he got older, and every time they did, Mickey simply rolled along with them, pretending nothing had happened. He never even told Ian the truth about his blackouts, even after the redhead moved in with him.

It's been a while since he's experienced a blackout, but it happens to him soon after he gets home. He remembers walking in and calling out to his family, checking if anyone was home. He got no response, so he called again, going further into the house and into his room. Still nothing. He shrugged, assuming no one was home yet - it was Saturday afternoon, after all, and they probably were out enjoying the warm day. He heard something, though, coming from the bathroom, and frowned. It sounded like water running. And then it hit him.

One moment he's standing in the living room, frowning at the closed door of the bathroom, the next he's on his knees, Ian's wet and cold body on top of him. Ian's pale, paler than ever, his lips turned purple and he feels like ice in Mickey's arms. He screams, shaking Ian, hitting his face gently to try to wake him up, only then noticing the tears that are streaming down his face. He looks around frantically, taking in his surroundings - the bathtub full to the brim; the water spilling down to the floor, soaking up his jeans, slowly making its way towards the living room; the empty medicine bottle fallen on the floor, rolling around silently. He realizes his own hands are shaking as he sets Ian down, pumping his chest and blowing air into his mouth, trying desperately to revive him. Ian's lips are cold and his body is still, but Mickey still tries, sending air into Ian's lungs once, twice, three, four, fifty times, but still he gets no response. He tries to feel for a pulse, but there's none, but he doesn't give up, he can't give up, so he tries again and again, shaking Ian's lifeless body, until there's nothing he can do but admit defeat as his own body shakes with loud sobs. He calls 911, informs them of the situation, but he knows it's too late even before the ambulance arrives and the paramedics take Ian away and try to revive him. It was probably already too late the minute Mickey stepped into the house.

They take him and Mickey goes with them, feeling numb and dead himself, his body heavy and unresponsive. He wishes he'd black out now and curses the fact that he could never control when it happened. He does what he has to do, because that's what Mickey always does in the end, but it doesn't feel real. He feels like a spectator at a movie, just watching things happening like they're happening to someone else and not to him. He watches as everyone cries around him, and it feels like he's already out of tears, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, his head feeling like it's going to explode. People ask him questions and he tries, he does his best to answer them, but everything feels surreal and out of place, and he just wants to go home already and fall onto his bed and cuddle with Ian… Ian. Wait. No. No more Ian. No more light. No more air. And mercifully, mercifully, he blacks out.

It's not one of his regular blackouts this time, however. When he wakes up, he's lying in a hospital bed. Shock, they tell him. Stress. He'd fainted and they gave him something - some drug, they say the name, but Mickey doesn't remember, doesn't care enough to remember. His head feels lighter, but the numbness is still there. They examine him and let him go, a prescription for more drugs in his pocket, drugs for him not to feel so much, drugs that will make him feel better, like the ones Ian takes… Used to take… Took one last time and got in a bathtub.

He crumples the prescription and throws it on the ground angrily. It's a good feeling, anger. He likes feeling something again, so he allows it to overtake him. He feels the anger growing in him. Anger at the doctors who couldn't save Ian, anger at his family who had left him alone, anger at Ian for abandoning him, anger at himself for not noticing that Ian was in danger. He should have seen it, should have realized it, should have gotten home sooner, should have… He feels arms around him, holding him, and it's only then he notices the broken chairs around him. They hold him, take him away, and drug him again. This time he almost welcomes the feeling.

They bury Ian on Monday, the rain heavy and relentless all around them, making the soil mushy. It doesn't do much to lift their spirits, not that a sunny day would be much better. What use can the sun be when Mickey's personal sun is gone forever? Forever. The word hadn't crossed his mind yet. Forever not seeing Ian again, forever not hearing his voice saying lame jokes or seeing his cocky smile. Forever not touching him or kissing him or falling asleep feeling the warmth of his body. Forever not sharing a beer or watching a movie together or hearing him talk about his plans and ideas. Forever.

He doesn't remember going home, realizes suddenly he's already walking through the front door, but he knows it wasn't a blackout this time. When he tries, he can remember people talking and moving and a car that took him home. He just wasn't paying attention. He didn't care. He pauses in front of his bed. He doesn't have to close his eyes to see Ian there, sitting with his back to the wall, scribbling furiously into a notebook. He looks up when Mickey arrives and smiles. Mickey smiles back, faintly. He sits on the bed and reaches out to cup Ian's face and kiss him, but his fingers grasp only air, Ian's image quickly fading away. A sob cuts through his body and he curls up, arms hugging his knees as he tries his best to stop hurting, stop feeling, just disappear. He shuts his eyes, invoking Ian's face, the face he'd committed to memory so long before. The bright red hair, the faded freckles, the deep green eyes. A loud sob escapes his lips and he opens his eyes, hastily wiping away the tears on his cheeks. He remembers the other time Ian left him, and how definite it seemed back then, how miserable he had felt thinking he'd never see Ian again. He'd never thought he could feel even worse, never thought he'd get a second chance only to have Ian stripped away from him forever. He gets up and staggers to the bathroom, where he does a quick search through the magazines. It doesn't take long for him to find it, Ian's picture, the same one he'd looked longingly at all those months before. It's the only one he has, and he curses himself for not having taken any others, for not having given in to Ian's sappy moments. His trembling fingers softly trace the picture and he wonders how different things would have been if Ian had never left, if he had managed to say the words the redhead had wanted to hear back then.

His vision blurs with the tears and it's as if the whole room is suddenly shaking, expanding and shrinking at the same time, and he can't see, can't breath, can only clutch Ian's picture to his chest and close his eyes together tightly, praying for the pain to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

When he opens his eyes again, the first thing he notices is that Ian's picture is not in his hands. Also, he's lying down. He sits up quickly, searching around for the picture, but it's nowhere to be seen. He sighs. He must have had a blackout again. He's almost thankful for that. There's something different, however, something not quite right about his room. He looks around to see the curtains are open and faint sunlight is coming through the windows. Upon further examination, he realizes some of Svetlana's things are around the room, like when they were still sleeping in the same bed. He frowns, anger suddenly taking over. What the hell is she thinking, that just because Ian is… gone… that she'll move back in? He stands up, fueled by his anger, but what he hears next makes him stop dead in his tracks.

"I just came by to see you."

Ian? That's Ian's voice! His breath gets caught in his chest and he runs to the hallway, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees him. It's Ian, it really is Ian, his hair cut shorter than the last time Mickey's seen him, a heavy coat hugging his body and a scarf around his neck. Mickey sighs. It's a memory. It's just his memory of that day, the day Ian left him. He must be dreaming of it. Well, if dreaming is his chance of seeing Ian again, he'll take it.

Ian is looking at him, waiting for him to say something. What had he said that day? Oh, that's right. He talked about the weight he'd been lifting. He looks down at his hands, but they're empty now. He shrugs. He hears Ian scoffing and looks up to see his disappointed look. What was next? Oh, yeah.

"Get in here, I wanna show you something." He nods in the direction of his bedroom and moves into it. "Come on, come check it out", he repeats, knowing Ian is following him.

Once he's inside the bedroom, however, the words seem to escape him. He can't quite remember what he said that day, and it doesn't really matter anyway. This is his chance to edit the past, right? He knows he'll wake up soon and it'll all be gone, so what difference does it make?

He smiles at Ian, lighting a cigarette. "Why don't we pick up where we left off?"

Ian smiles and shrugs. "No, thanks."

Mickey blows out the smoke sharply and scoffs. "Hard to get's getting me hard, Gallagher."

He knows what Ian's going to say, of course. How could he ever forget it? He figures it won't hurt, it's just a memory, it's not a real moment. But it still cuts through his chest like a sharp knife. "Well, I'm leaving town."

He takes another drag, exhales slowly and puts out the cigarette. "Right, the army."

Ian looks up at that, eyes wide. "How did you know?"

"Your fucking dream, isn't it?"

Ian just nods, looking surprised. "Tomorrow morning."

"Well, don't." He doesn't choke this time, the words coming out of his mouth clearly.

Ian frowns. "Don't what?"

"Don't go. You're gonna ruin your life."

Ian scoffs and turns around to leave. Mickey feels his heart beating faster in his chest. No, no, this can't be happening, not again, he's not going to let Ian leave him again.

"I mean it! The army is gonna change you, and not in a good way. You won't like it there, you'll have problems and you'll leave and it'll only cause you trouble and you won't be the same when you come back, and in the end it'll ruin your life!"

Ian stops at that and turns around, seeming angry and ready to shout something back, but Mickey doesn't give him time. "Besides, I'll miss you." That seems to shock Ian into silence and he stares at Mickey with eyes wide and mouth gaping like a fish. "Of course I won't admit it, because I'm fucking stupid like that, but I'll miss you like hell, and I'll go to the Alibi and drink until I can forget about you every day, but it won't help, because I can't forget about you. And I'll pick up some random chick just because she has red hair and I want to believe that's what I'm attracted to and not dicks, but it's a lie and it doesn't work, because I still can't forget about you. And I'll steal a picture of you from Mandy's things and put it on the mirror in the bathroom and I'll try to jerk off to it, but I can't because I'm just so fucking sad without you that I can't even do that properly. And I'll just mope around day in and day out until you come back, finally, but it'll be too late, because you'll have changed, and no matter how happy we are together, it can't be for long because you won't be the same anymore, you won't be my Ian anymore." He pauses, breathing heavily and watching Ian intently. The younger boy hasn't moved yet, but he does then, quickly taking a step forward, grasping Mickey's cheeks between his large hands and pressing their lips firmly together.

Mickey is taken aback for half a second before he starts kissing back, one hand holding Ian's coat while the other encircles his waist, bringing him closer. He parts his lips and welcomes Ian's tongue inside, sighing into the kiss. He knows this is just his imagination, but it doesn't feel like a dream anymore. It feels real, it feels like Ian is really there, like he is really there, back in his room, back to that day somehow. Mickey doesn't believe in time traveling or any of that supernatural shit, but right now he'd swear he's gone back in time and this is real, this is actually happening. God, he'd give anything for it to be true. Ian tastes of mint and smells of cologne and Mickey feels his head start to spin in the best of ways. He nearly stumbles forward when Ian pulls back abruptly.

"You're saying all this", he starts, out of breath, "but you still married her."

Mickey sighs. Even dream Ian insists on this bullshit. "I had no fucking choice! Jesus, why won't you get this? Fuck! You know my dad, what do you think he'd have done? I had to!"

"No, you didn't. You could have left, we could have left together, we still can!"

Mickey pulls back and rubs his eyes. "Ian, I… shit, it's not that I don't want to, okay? But… I can't. Not now. You can't either. Let's wait, okay? Just… can you wait for me? Not long, I promise. Let's just think about this and plan it right, okay? Maybe when my dad is back in jail - god knows that won't take long. Yeah?"

Ian reaches for him again and presses their foreheads together, nodding slightly.

"Yeah", he whispers. "Yeah, okay."

He leans down to touch Mickey's lips with his own again, this time less desperately, more slowly, enjoying every nibble on their lips, every touch of their tongues, every soft caress of their fingers. Please be real, Mickey silently asks the universe, please let this somehow be real. They hear the door being closed behind them and break apart to look at it.

"Shit! Mandy…"

"It's okay." Mickey shrugs, once more surprising Ian, who looks at him with raised eyebrows. "She would have found out sooner or later." He pulls Ian close again, reinitiating the kiss, and it's not long until Ian's removing his coat and his scarf and letting them fall onto the floor. Their hands roam freely, caressing and exploring, and Mickey feels likes he's going to burst, either from the sexual tension or from happiness, he does not know. Ian's lips suck on his collarbone and his hands tug on Mickey's tank top. Mickey's pulse accelerates and he lets himself fall onto the bed, bringing Ian down with him. They undress slowly, savoring the moment, every discarded piece of clothing being replaced with several hot kisses that leave their skins burning and their hearts swollen. When he feels Ian move inside him he closes his eyes firmly to avoid spilling the tears he knows are forming behind them. He blinks them open to see Ian's concerned face hovering above his and pulls him down for a kiss. What is he supposed to say? You were dead? You were dead, but now you're not; you left me, but you're still here; you were gone forever, but you're back with me; I loved you, and I still do, and I always will. They rock together rhythmically, peppering each other with kisses, holding tight in their embraces. Ian looks at Mickey like he's his sun and his moon and his stars and Mickey wants to laugh, because he knows his own eyes express the same feeling.

"I love you", he murmurs against Ian's lips, and if Ian's grin is not enough answer, if the way he kisses him after doesn't say it all, the way his voice trembles when he says "I love you too" is enough to bring Mickey to the verge of tears again. And he knows he's acting like a sap, and he knows that's supposed to make him weak, but he can't bring himself to care. Because Ian, his Ian, his only love, his only chance of happiness in this fucked up life, has returned to him.


End file.
